


Dreaming about the things that we could be

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2010819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Robert asks," Ned says, coming across to take her hands, "that we send one of our girls to be fostered at Highgarden at the same age, as a mark of good faith."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming about the things that we could be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PanBoleyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/gifts).



Ned spends a long time in his solar after the announcement of Prince Tommen's birth arrives, but Cat does not think much of it. The King does not write often, but when he does, his letters are long, and rambling, and often his hand is so poor that it takes Ned half a day to decipher the words.

"It has been agreed," Ned says quietly, standing in her solar after the evening meal that night, "that Princess Myrcella will go to Dorne to foster when she turns eight. A sort of informal betrothal has been agreed between herself and Prince Quentyn, Doran Martell's eldest son."

Cat looks at him curiously, glad that Bran has started sleeping so well so much earlier than Arya did, that she has this time to spend with Ned, and wonders why he is telling her this now, rather than sharing it in the morning, while they meet with Maester Luwin and Vayon and Ser Rodrick as they always do.

"Robert asks," Ned says, coming across to take her hands, "that we send one of our girls to be fostered at Highgarden at the same age, as a mark of good faith."

 

* * *

 

 

Cat was upset at the thought of sending one of the girls away, and Ned cannot blame her. All the same, he was fostered away from the age of eight, and his brotherhood with Robert runs as deep as his kinship with Benjen - mayhaps deeper, for he  _knows_ Robert in ways he can never know Ben. He regrets that Sansa might not know her brothers and sister, but she is the eldest daughter, their eldest child save Robb, who even Robert would not ask them to send so far away as Highgarden, and friend and brother though Robert might be to him, Ned cannot refuse a direct order from his King.

And Robert, for all his faults, is just that. As quickly as that, it is decided that Sansa, their little lady, will go to Highgarden after her eighth nameday. It seems so far away, four years or a little less, but Ned knows well enough that four years can be an eternity (he lost most of his family and built a new one in half that, after all).

"It is a great honour, sweetling," he explains to Sansa, sitting wide-eyed on his knee in Cat's solar. "Highgarden is very beautiful, and you will love the Reach, I think. Lord Tyrell has a daughter about Robb's age, and three sons as well."

The eldest son, three times Sansa's age and more, just now, is the one whose name is being mentioned in relation to this betrothal Robert is so much in support of. Ned and Cat are in agreement, at least, that he is a good match for Sansa, the difference in their ages notwithstanding, and that she could not possibly do better than the heir to Highgarden, not unless Robert offered his eldest boy for her.

"Might I come home?" Sansa asks, and Ned wonders how to explain it to her - she is so small, still, and he does not think that she will understand, but he must try.

"Not often," he admits. "But we will write to you, sweetling, and you might write to us."

"You will be too busy with your new friends and your foster-family to worry after us, sweetling," Cat encourages, dropping to her knees before Ned's chair, stroking Sansa's pretty hair. 

Sansa considers this with more concentration than seems normal for a four year old child, and then smiles, bright and sweet. 

 

* * *

 

 

The journey to Highgarden is long, so very long, and Sansa is glad that she  _did_ spend more time riding with Mother and Ser Rodrick than she might have liked, because otherwise she would have been quite unable to sit her pony for so long. 

She likes the roseroad more than the kingsroad, though - much of it is cobbled in smooth stones, and there are rolling fields stretching out as far as she can see, dotted here with pretty trees and there with pretty flowers. She likes it very much, and hopes that Highgarden is as pretty as her lady mother promised it would be.

Jory tells her funny japes and stories as they travel, him on his fine dun horse and her at his side on her lovely dappled pony, and that shortens the journey some. It makes her forget the aches in her bottom and her back, although she always remembers them right away when Jeyne begins to complain when they stop for the night. Sansa thinks it all a fine adventure, thinks the excitement is worth the aches, and she ignores it when Jeyne says  _Are you not nervous?_

Of course Sansa is nervous, terribly so, but there is nothing to be done about that. She chooses instead to consider what it will be like to live in Highgarden, to whom she will go as she used go to her lady mother - is she to go to Lady Tyrell? That is the sort of thing she is nervous about, but she knows Jeyne is more concerned that their dresses will not be fashionable, or at least fashionable  _enough,_ to compete with the ladies of Highgarden.

Sansa is more looking forward to meeting Lord Tyrell's daughter than his sons, because she would like another sister - Arya is all well and good, but they have never gotten along particularly well, and Arya has always preferred Jon and Bran, anyways. If Sansa is to marry one of Lord Tyrell's sons, as her lord father hinted she might, then she thinks that befriending their sister will go some way towards putting her in their good graces.

"Are you ready now, Lady Sansa?" Jory asks her as he lifts her into her saddle on what is to be their final day's journey. "Just a few more hours, and we'll be at Highgarden." 

He smiles, and tells her that he won't tell her lord father if she wishes to turn back now, that she need only say the word and he'll spirit her away to Braavos or Lys or some other of the Free Cities, but she only giggles and blushes and tries not to show how her tummy is turning about she's so nervous. 

Jeyne is complaining about something, and Sansa very nearly wishes that her friend had not been sent to be her companion. She is glad that she will have someone from home staying with her for a time, though - Jeyne is to return to Winterfell when she turns ten, several moons before Sansa does - and so she only sighs, giggles when Jory rolls his eyes at her, and nudges her little pony along to keep up with Jory's horse.

They round a corner, come through a copse of trees hung heavy with pale yellow blossoms, and Highgarden is to one side and the river to the other and roses are all around, and Sansa gasps, because she has never seen anything so beautiful in all her life.

 

* * *

 

 

She's a pretty child, Alerie notes with pleasure, and sweet-natured enough if the way she smiles at her guard is any sort of measure. She blushes when Garlan bows over her hand, and smiles bright when she is introduced to Margaery, and curtsies low for Mace, which makes his chest puff. 

"You are most welcome to Highgarden, sweetling," Alerie tells her, offering her a hand and leading her into the castle. Mace will assign someone to take care of her guards, and the girl sent to keep her company will be assigned rooms among the cousins, Alerie supposes. She left such things to the steward, concerning herself only with their most important guest. Lady Sansa's rooms have been readied next to Margaery's, in the heart of the family, and Alerie only hopes that the little girl will come to love Highgarden as Loras has Storm's End.

"I am honoured to be here, my lady," Lady Sansa says earnestly, pink in the cheeks still and breathless, nervous and excited all at once. Alerie recognises that well enough, can still remember Arwyn Oakheart's arrival at the High Tower, and wonders how fierce Arwyn would like it to know that Alerie is so reminded of her by this slip of a girl who cannot be courteous enough. "Highgarden is even more beautiful than I hoped, my lady."

And Sansa Stark's courtesies continue, and seem oddly sincere - she is effusive in her praise for everything, delighting in the way only children can over the loveliness of her rooms, shy of Margaery but plainly eager to make friends, and listens wide-eyed at dinner when Garlan tells her stories of Cider Hall, where he still spends most of his time, courting Ser Tanton's eldest girl, Leonette. Alerie thinks that they would make a fine match, if Mace would only  _listen_ to herself and the old witch. Harridan though Olenna may be, she does tend to have the best interests of Alerie's children at heart, and so they have long ago made the best peace they can manage in order to guide Mace away from his more grandiose tendencies.

But their new guest is the centre of tonight's fun, not Garlan's marital prospects, and it isn't until Alerie sees Margaery's and Garlan's smiles fade that she thinks there may be something more to the girl than a pretty face and a practiced tongue.

"I understand that your youngest brother is squiring with the King's brother," she says, "but is your eldest brother not in residence? I had- I had hoped to meet him, as well, my lady."

Margaery looks to Alerie - just a flash, to be sure, but there all the same, and Alerie cannot but feel smug that Margaery still defers to her before Olenna - before turning to face Lady Sansa properly.

"Willas is very ill with his leg," Margaery confides. "He will be better soon, but for now, Maester Lomys has confined him to his rooms."

Lady Sansa looks disappointed, but offers quiet hopes that Willas -  _Lord Willas,_ and it is odd to hear him called such, for all that it is his title, she supposes.

Alerie walks their guest to her rooms not long after, watching the girl consider something that is clearly worrying her.

"I did not mean to cause offence at dinner, Lady Tyrell," she says, "in asking about Lord Willas, I mean. I am sorry if I did."

"Oh, sweetling," Alerie says, crouching down to look the girl in the eye. "You did not cause offence - had you maligned my son somehow, then I might have thought otherwise, but you were only curious. Such a thing is hardly to be punished."

She sends the girl into Marian's capable hands with a kiss to her shiny hair, and thinks that this fuss of Mace's and the King's might not be so much a bother as she and Olenna feared.

 

* * *

 

 

In her first seven moons at Highgarden, Sansa spends almost all of her time with Margaery and her cousins. Jeyne doesn't like Margaery very much, for some reason, but Sansa likes her very much, and thinks that Highgarden is  _wonderful._

She finds it odd that she has yet to meet Margaery's eldest brother, though - he is unwell often, according to Margaery and Lady Alerie, and even when he is not he does not venture much beyond his rooms and Lord Mace's. 

Despite herself, Sansa quite likes Lord Mace - he is too loud, and often silly, and Lady Olenna quite plainly despairs of him, but he is also kind in a way that reminds her of Lord Umber of Last Hearth, somehow. All of Highgarden is sometimes a little too loud, of course, that's why Sansa so often slips into the library to read from one of the beautifully illuminated books of songs and stories that are stored in the massive bookshelves by the window that overlooks the mermaid fountain in the inner garden. There is a window seat there, too, and Sansa likes to sit there and read when Margaery and her cousins become overwhelming, which is not quite so often now as it was when first she arrived.

It is during one of her escapes that she lifts her head to find a man who, while clearly a Tyrell, is unfamiliar to her. He is leaning against the nearest of the free-standing bookcases, a crutch tucked under his left arm, and he is smiling.

She wonders if he has been watching her for long, and blushes to think that he might have been.

"Walk with me a little, Lady Sansa," he says, offering her his hand. A ring like Lord Mace's glints on his finger, a gold signet stamped with a Tyrell rose, and between that and the crutch, Sansa can only assume that this is  _finally_ Lord Willas. 

She takes his hand, once she has made certain to return her book to its shelf, and together they depart the library, him hobbling unevenly on crutch and good leg, her half-skipping to keep up with his loping stride.

He is, Sansa decides after a long, sunlit afternoon in the stables, very handsome, and very kind, and if horses are as lovely as  _he_ says they are, then mayhaps she might come to like them, at least a little.

 

* * *

 

 

When Margaery is three-and-ten and just starting to give serious consideration to things like marriage, she begins badgering Willas and Garlan about their lack of wives.

"But you simply  _must_ marry Leonette, Garlan!" she insists, and Garlan is so red in the face that Willas can only just refrain from laughing outright. Margaery is not aware, but Garlan has asked Ser Tanton for Leo's hand, and is waiting quite impatiently for word back. Mother had insisted that he remain away from Cider Hall until Ser Tanton gave a decision one way or the other, and Willas thinks that it might be the longest Garlan has gone without seeing Leo since he was a child of eight, gone to serve as page to her father.

He watches the dancing while Garlan and Marg bicker - Father is spinning Mother about, and she looks very beautiful. She always looks happiest when she's with Father, in Willas' opinion, although she would never admit to such a thing.

More amusingly is Loras' Lord Renly, shuffling with Granny, clearly being lectured on something or other and not quite sure how to handle it. The best means of dealing with his grandmother, as far as Willas has discovered, is to bite back as rudely as possible, which makes her laugh.

A slim little hand tucks itself into his elbow, and he tilts his head to listen to whatever Sansa wishes to tell him. 

"Did you know," she says, "that my lord father has received an offer for my hand from Lord Umber of Last Hearth?"

Usually, they have these quiet conversations without ever looking at one another - Willas is impossibly fond of their little house guest, who under her endless affected courtesies is both sweet and utterly wicked - but this pushes him to sit upright, to turn to face her in pure, helpless surprise.

"Whyever would he bother doing such a thing?" he asks, bewildered, drawing Sansa to sit beside him (in Father's seat, but Father's too busy laughing with Mother and besides, he wouldn't mind). "Surely he knows-"

Ah, but that is the problem, isn't it? Willas and Sansa are betrothed in all but name, informally matched off since she was hardly more than a babe,  _but._

Willas wonders, as Sansa tells him in great detail why she does not wish to marry Lord Umber of Last Hearth's son, if it is time for him to write to Lord Stark.  _A long betrothal,_ he decides,  _will just give her time to learn to run Highgarden._

 

* * *

 

 

Cat takes the letter from Ned's hand, and has to laugh.

"It does seem that he knows her well," she admits, for Willas Tyrell's request for Sansa's hand echoes both of the little girl Cat gave up two years past and of the older girl who writes letters home every moon's turn. "And he asks for a long betrothal, too, which I had not expected, given his father's letters."

Oh yes, Mace Tyrell writes regularly, as well, every half year, to inform them of Sansa's progress and to drop staggeringly unsubtle hints about formalising the betrothal. Cat is surprised by the sincere fondness for Sansa that is so obvious in his son's letter, and is relieved by his insistence that he has no desire whatever to marry Sansa in the near future. She remembers well enough how eager Brandon often was for marriage (or the marriage bed, more likely - she harbours no illusions about the man she might have married).

"There is no reason to say no," Cat says, wondering what Sansa's next letter might say.

(It is overflowing with excited thank yous, and Cat laughs when Ned looks uncomfortable to know that Sansa is so obviously enthused at the idea of getting married.)

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa sobs, and Willas does not know what to do. There is nothing he  _can_ do, nothing that can bring her father back from the dead or stop her brother's southward march. There is only the quiet of the sept, or the peace of the little godswood, and what comfort he can offer when he holds her while she cries.

There is his refusal to entertain Father's suggestion that he break his betrothal to Sansa, of course, particularly when the very King who took her father's head calls for her hand to replace that of her missing sister, but they are already allied with Renly, with Sansa's brother, and Granny has acted in Margaery's best interests and sent someone after Stannis Baratheon.

He hopes that she finds comfort in that. He does, for sure, when he wakes in a cold sweat from nightmares of his brothers and uncles and  _Father_ going off to war.

**Author's Note:**

> Treat this as "to be expanded upon" - I promised this 'verse to Kate literal years ago and never got around to writing it, but I WILL revisit and give ALL THE DETAIL, I promise.
> 
> Title from 'Counting Stars' by OneRepublic
> 
> Written for SansaWillasWeek on tumblr.


End file.
